The Unbelievable
by Eric-Eads
Summary: Accidents happen all the time, so why is it so much harder to deal with this one?
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Unbelievable

Author: ShinigamiYuy

Pairings: Gil/Greg (CSI: Las Vegas)

Rating: PG-13, Angst Galore.

Disclaimer: They aren't mind, I own nothing really. I'm not even sure I own myself?

Summary: Accidents happen all the time, so why is it so much harder to deal with this one?

Accidents happen all the time, and in their line of work they had seen it all. Accidents ending in death, in humiliation, in a bit of scarring and a lesson learned. This was different though; none of them could just stand back and look at it from a logical point of view, not now.

It had started out a normal night too, well, as normal as a night can be when your job consisted of working with the dead, the abused, and criminals overall. The whole of the night and swing shift had been called out to a high priority case. Ecklie had been hovering about, outside the tape, as always, and things seemed to be pretty straight forward.

A break-in gone wrong, in a political figure's house, had left the family dead. The suspect had already been apprehended, fingerprints and DNA were sure to match up. It was a cut and dry case if there ever was one.

Greg, being the newest member of the CSI team, was the one who did the grunt work, so, loading up his car, they had sent the boy to get some evidence in already. They wanted to start a DNA profile immediately. The rest of the team would finish up, bag all the other evidence, and follow soon.

They had barely turned back to the house when they heard it; the screeching of rubber against asphalt as breaks were applied and the smashing of metal into metal. A small period of silence followed, yet it seemed like forever as they all worked to wrap their heads around what had just happened, trying to understand that they _were_ seeing a twisted heap that compiled Greg's car and a much larger van, rammed into the side of the CSI's vehicle.

Sound returned in the form of boots, smacking against the pavement, and screams, into walkie talkies and phones. The voices were announcing instructions, to the hospital, to other officers, and to anyone that needed to be informed. Jaws of Life were already on route, just in case they were needed. Time was very much of the essence.

For such a heavy set man Gil Grissom could run pretty fast, the fact that he was closest to the vehicles didn't hurt much either. As such he was one of the first to the car, and was greeted with the sight of an obviously drunk man stumbling, unharmed, from the van, and Greg…

Greg Sanders, who was trapped inside the totaled automobile, face covered in blood, most likely from the gash in his forehead from the steering wheel. Gil thought he could see metal, lodged in the other's arm. It looked rusted, but that may have been the blood gushing sluggishly from the wound it had caused.

It was amazing that he could lift his head at all, but Greg did, eyes barely focusing as Gil watched helplessly. Mentally he was cataloguing injuries, and the dilated pupils spoke of a concussion, maybe worse. He had never seen the man look younger than he did right now, not even after the lab explosion. It must have been from all the blood loss, making his skin look pale against the crimson liquid spilling out.

"…Griss…om…" The man in question had to swallow several times, trying to relieve the tightness in his chest that was making it hard to breathe. "Greg, don't talk. We are going to get you out of there. Everything will be fine." It was amazing he could keep his voice that steady, that calm. He felt like his lungs were going to burst, but he was certain no one else could tell.

"So…Sorry… Evidence… Compromised…" It was a testament to how truly dedicated to work Greg was, or maybe just that he was probably in shock. It almost made Gil smile, though he refrained because if he did, his eyes might just well up with tears. He was quick to reassure the injured man though, "Don't worry about it Greg, we will still put him in jail. We've got plenty of evidence that isn't compromised."

It was a relief that the Jaws of Life weren't needed, as they would just take time to get here, too much for the team's liking. Instead Greg was removed through the passenger side door, with little trouble, luckily. Once he was spread out onto the stretcher, Grissom was quick to take his place beside him. He took hold of the flung out hand in his own, 'To keep it from hitting anything,' he mentally told himself. It was most likely for his personal comfort though. He hadn't wanted to have to walk beside another gurney after the lab explosion. Especially not with his lab tech turned CSI on it.

When he felt the weak grip go slack in his hand he had to keep his heart from stopping. It was hard to keep reminding his self that the other had just fallen unconscious, and that they wouldn't be investigating another CSI murder.

He was proud of his team, who managed to take it in stride, despite their worry. Already they were collecting evidence to the new scene. It was doubtful they'd make an error though, even in such a stressed state. Even Gil could feel the need for revenge and as a CSI the best revenge was making sure the criminal stayed behind bars as long as they possibly could.

Brass was walking by; he could see the man in his peripheral vision, walking the drunk to the cruiser. It was with some satisfaction that he watched the handcuffed criminal be stuffed a bit too hard into the back.

Slipping his grip from the much smaller hand finally, he stared for a long moment as the precious bundle was loaded up into the back of the ambulance. After he made sure that Greg was in the best hands he could be, he did what he did best, work.

Now he sat, in a chair too stiff, too uncomfortable for his old joints and muscles. And he watched, ignoring the discomfort, knowing his CSI was in more pain than he was. Not that the other could feel it, unconscious and medicated as he was. He endured anyways, not wanting to have the man finally wake up and be alone.

It was still up in the air if he'd survive. He was out of critical condition now but he still showed no signs of waking. Tests would need to be preformed, to check for brain damage, from blood loss or from the bash to the head.

A long while had passed since Grissom had been a religious man, science didn't always mix well with God and Jesus as it were. He found himself praying in either case, to any God, spirit, or dust speck that would listen. He couldn't lose the man-boy that was Greg Sanders.

He meant too much to all of them, he brought light to an otherwise dark job. His constant perseverance despite everything made them feel like this might be worth doing, and not just some thankless job to bring in the money at the end of the day. After all, Greg had left the security of the lab, of a heavier wallet to job the field. He was as much a member of their close knit group as Warrick or Nick.

Speaking of Nick, he could hear the door to the room open. He didn't need to look up to know it was Nicky, hovering. Nodding, more to himself than the man waiting, he leaned forward. Brushing the hand he was holding against his furred cheek, Gil whispered a tiny plea to get well soon, and planted a kiss along the palm. Standing he relinquished his hold to the Texan, who then took his place.

It seemed like their lives were now just shifts. It was shifts at work, shifts at Greg's bedside, and shifts for sleeping, which they often missed out on for days. He hoped it ended soon, returned to normal. He missed collecting evidence and solving adult sized puzzles. Mostly he missed the comic relief that the youngest of their group always brought with him.

TBC? End? Not really sure. All depends on my reviews I suppose. If anyone wants to beta any of my works, or notices any mistakes, please tell me.

UPDATE: I beta-ed myself. So if the fic seems different, it is.


	2. Chapter 2

So, it's been forever since I last wrote anything in the way of CSI, even longer since I've updated this story

So, it's been forever since I last wrote anything in the way of CSI, even longer since I've updated this story. Therefore, the writing style is likely to seem different, this will be POV, and it might not hold the same sort of feeling anymore.

Part 2

The first thing I noticed was the smell. It seems odd, considering how much pain I was in, but that sterilized, impersonal scent, is really strong when you're waking from a coma. Once the pain registered however, that drifted from my mind. I could vaguely hear voices, a groan as well, but that might have been me, and then hands.

"-anders? Mister Sanders, can you hear me?"

It hurt to open my eyes, but I did anyways, I wanted to know what was going on, what had happened. Everything seemed really hazy in my mind. I managed to make a really weird noise, which was impossible to understand, and sounded like lyrics from one of my favorite band. I would have appreciated it more, if I wasn't so thirsty.

The noise must have meant something important to someone, since I was soon gifted with a delicious sponge filled with water, that I could suck at. It wasn't nearly enough water to sate me, logic told me I would drown myself at this point if I were given any water to just drink, feeling so thirsty I'd gladly take a dip if I thought I could swim.

"Greggo? Hey man, you with us?"

I knew that voice. It was a bit discerning when I had to pause for a minute to try and put a name to it. With a second wetting of the sponge-sicle, and a draining via my mouth, I was able to croak something more like words, or at least they seemed to be.

"'icky?"

A choked laugh followed, along with a squeeze to my right hand, which had been held in a grip I hadn't noticed until now. I think someone gave me something, cause the pain was fading away a bit, leaving room for normal touch to center in.

I kind of wanted to have someone start a criminal case against my doctor though. Particularly when he deemed it necessary to blind me in the name of health. The light he shined into my eyes was almost as bad as the glaring sun that was filtering into my room from the open windows. Now that they were forced open, no point in taking away my sight again, so I turned them instead towards Nicky.

"Hey there, buddy. You gave us quite a scare, ya' know?"

He must have been worried, cause his accent was thick. Funny how that works.

"Sorry…" I must have sounded hoarse though cause the answer rewarded me with another dipped sponge, and then after that an ice chip from a nurse who'd entered.

Nicky and I did the back and forth thing for a bit, but I wasn't my all, and the meds sent me back under quickly. I was only awake maybe ten minutes or so, from what I understood. I think Nick was trying not to cry the whole time, looking relieved yet watery. Poor guy.

The next time I woke it wasn't as painful, and the smell was being masked slightly by something sweetly scented. Lifting my lids showed me that I had a large collection of flowers, and that it was now night.

Drifting my gaze around the room also brought me to one Gil Grissom, who sat at a small circular table and chair set in the corner of the room. His back was hunched and he was scribbling at what appeared to be the paper, likely working on a crossword. He was also mumbling softly to himself.

"Am I fired?"

I didn't mean to blurt that, and probably shouldn't have, since it almost made the man fall out of his chair. Well, maybe not quite, but still, Grissom was obviously surprised. It brought a smile to my face, which hurt the split lip I hadn't known I had.

"Greg." A sigh of relief seemed to accompany the word, or maybe it was part of it, who knew, but he lifted himself warily from the chair and moved to the one beside my bed.

"No, you aren't fired. Why would you even consider that?"

It was less a scolding than an honestly curious question. Gil was way too curious for his own good sometimes.

"From what I remember, I managed to compromise evidence, and haven't been to work in three weeks."

I got his famous 'What you are saying is strange and foreign to me.' Look. Well, maybe it was famous to me, cause he was always giving it to me, like I had just informed him that we were all created by a Flying Spaghetti Monster. (1)

"Greg, the accident was proven beyond a shadow of a doubt not to have been caused by you. The other driver was intoxicated. As for not being to work in three weeks, it's illegal to fire you for being out for medical reasons. You even acquired them while on the job, which would be grounds for a lawsuit if Ecklie tried."

Well that made sense, even if it was explained in a voice that vaguely made me think of an adult trying to explain something to a child.

"Oh…"

There was an awkward silence for a long moment. I had nothing to really say, and Grissom seemed to be struggling with something. Finally, he broke the moment by taking my hand in his larger, calloused one. They were still fairly soft, all things considered, and I sort of marveled at that.

Once I focused back in and realized it wasn't normal for this to be happening, my eyes dragged upwards to meet my boss's gaze.

"Greg, listen. I realize that some of the things I've said to you in the past have been, let us just say, unprofessional, bordering on cruel and rude. I wanted you to know that it is difficult for me to change, set in my ways as I am, but that I don't mean most of the hurtful things that I state."

I think the biggest shock of my life had just happened. Gil 'Bug Man' Grissom had.. well sort of apologized to me. In a round about way. Nothing prepared me, however, for when he leaned down, and ever so carefully, planted a kiss directly to my lips.

It was brief, and light, obviously he was concerned that he'd hurt me, by the way he shied from the slight cut on my lower lip. The gently brush of stubble against my fairly hairless skin was interesting to say the least.

"I hope you can manage to forgive me."

All I could do was give him a dazed sort of grin and nod my head. Hell, who knew what I was agreeing to, or if I was agreeing to anything at all. My mind was still on the fact that I'd just gotten kissed by one hell of a good looking man.

"There is just one thing Greg… You aren't ever allowed to play your music in my vehicle."

End

So yeah. I guess I finished it? I dunno. Who knows, in another two years, I may come back and write some more.

1) The Flying Spaghetti Monster thing is really odd, cause it was some sort of religion that my friend jokingly took up in High School and made us all join. I believe it is some weird sort of cult internet humor thing still, even today.


End file.
